The Learning Curve

Circle of Friends

Struggling to keep up, our rookie finds that group rides can be moving in a whole new way

colin mcenroe

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Not long after I upgraded to an actual road bike, I decided to take another shot at riding with the Cool Kids, my serious road-riding friends. I'd never been able to keep up with them during a number of outings earlier in the year. But I had a new Felt Z5, and they lured me in by saying they were only going a flat 15 miles, a laughably low number. When I arrived at Chris the Nurse's house, she told me, "We're going up Talcott Notch and then over to Heublein Tower."

I live in Connecticut, not Colorado, but even by our relatively modest standards that's an entirely unflat route. I gamely pedaled along for a while, trailing farther and farther behind with each punishing ascent. Mark, the fearless leader of the Cool Kids, kept circling back to describe a land of milk and honey waiting over yonder hill, if I could just haul myself over it. Of course, waiting over yonder hill was…another hill.

Finally I turned back, legs burning. I rode home feeling soiled and compromised. I was sitting on a real road bike, but I still had a department-store-bike body.

So I found a different group ride. The shop where I bought my Felt runs a regular Tuesday-night ride, and people selfsort into A, B, and C groups. The ride is about 23 miles, and there's a charming no-cyclist-left-behind rule. Even if you are, like me, more appropriately enrolled in the C-minus group, the leader will dart back like a sheepdog and round you up. The faster Cs wait at preordained points.

On my first C ride, I settled in at the back with a young woman who, it turned out, really didn't understand how her gears worked. The leader, named Mark, just like the other one, drifted back and coached her until she started to get it, which was a wonderful moment of triumph for her but a little dispiriting for me because I was then in graver danger of finishing a distant last.

As we came down the last mile that night, I struggled, philosophically, with the question of whether to put on a burst of speed and pass a few people, just so I wouldn't stand out. I decided that seemed like the act of a psychologically needy man. Instead, I managed to slide in with the last clump of riders in a manner that looked more relaxed than I felt.

Afterward, as people hung around on the sidewalk, a few of us chatted about a ride being planned for a couple of nights hence. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that," I said. "Oh, no. You're totally capable of doing this," one guy said.